


If We Were To Stay

by sunrayhoseok (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boyfriends, Conversations, Dating, Established Relationship, I tag iwaoi but like they're barely mentioned lmao, I'm pretty vague but it'll be a-ok, M/M, Relationship Talk, Roommates, breakup talk, sorry i just love kinkuni and there is no kinkuni angst so im just kinda, techinically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sunrayhoseok
Summary: Akira crosses his right leg over his left with a heavy look in dull brown eyes. "What is it that you think I mean?" He asks.Sat across from him, mile long legs folded awkwardly underneath the table in their too cramped kitchen, Yuutarou's face flushed a pale rose color. He looks away from Akira. "It sounds like you want this to end."Nothing is said at first. Akira is bringing a mug of coffee towards his lips, silver streams of steam billow up as he takes a sip. "You know," He begins. "I'mnot even sure what I mean."





	If We Were To Stay

Yuutarou set two mugs on the breakfast table, the routine of Sunday morning ingrained into him. Five years had passed since the impossibly small apartment was leased to Akira and him. It felt longer than that. Regrettably, Yuutarou knew when to admit that, when he said it felt longer than half a decade, he was not speaking fondly. Of course, he could remember a time when it was fond. Watching Akira like an ethereal being, loving to watch the sun bathe him in gold.

The routine of Sunday morning ingrained into him, seeing Akira sat across him, same as always. Akira took long sips, they filled up silence. Yuutarou would watch the digital clock on their decade old oven, it kept him occupied. They didn't talk, it always felt cold in the morning. Stiff shoulders when they passed each other in their impossibly small apartment, clipped conversations of 'thanks for the sex,' or glossy stares from one's desk to the other sat on the couch.

"Do you ever tire of this?" Akira asks. He spoke suddenly and bored, a constant state for him. Yuutarou wonders what he ever found attractive about the monotone voice Akira always had.

Still, he speaks unsure and shyly. The sunlight casts over Akira's face, the shadow of their blinds appearing, too. "What is it that you mean?"

Akira crosses his right leg over his left with a heavy look in dull brown eyes. "What is it that you think I mean?" He asks.

Sat across from him, mile long legs folded awkwardly underneath the table in their too cramped kitchen, Yuutarou's face flushed a pale rose color. He looks away from Akira. "It sounds like you want this to end."

Nothing is said at first. Akira is bringing a mug of coffee towards his lips, silver streams of steam billow up as he takes a sip. "You know," He begins. " _I'm_ not even sure what I mean."

"So why say anything at all?" Yuutarou asks. He thinks it at first, but regardless, he voiced the thoughts. In high school, Akira often snapped at him for never speaking his mind.

He responds dryly, his tongue fast as the comment slips out without warning. "I don't think I love you anymore." There is no apology in his voice.

So why this? - _This?_ Of all things to suddenly send a dagger spinning directly at him? Yuutarou did not think he loved Akira anymore, either, and yet there is a sudden shortness of breath on his end. And though he isn't positive, Yuutarou thinks there might be tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Obvious tears, too, ones Akira sees right away. He says nothing. Yuutarou doesn't question it, he didn't say anything about the crying he heard from their bedroom two nights ago; Yuutarou hadn't done anything to help.

He found it funny - _Ironic_ , really - that they still shared a bed. The bed that was cold, constantly. Except for when it wasn't. Except for when someone rolled over and climbed on top of the other and whispered their name, " _Yuu'_ ," Like Akira from ages ago would say, " _'Kira_ ," Yuutarou'd hiss. Knees went weak at hearing such an _affectionate_ pet name. A sign of love, something they're both _so_ starved for. The hollow kisses pressed against collarbones and nails scratching into skin, deep purple hickies lining necks and chests.

Yuutarou can remember a time when he thought that hickies were a sign of love, he liked to think of them as such - A bruise born from love - but now he sees hickies as marking something. As letting others know this one's taken, this one's been _used_ already. The hickey is to mark you so there isn't a need to say anything more. It's a last act of desperation; Marking territory.

Life was different now. Life had become known as black and white for them. The two didn't know grey. From the warmth and pale sunlight of when they were in love, when Akira and Yuutarou truly, without a doubt loved each other. A switch had been flipped, the sunlight was now too harsh and the days were cold, it was now agonizing and painful to look at one another. And yet, _they_ carried on, they ate together, they went shopping and made plans with friends, they shared a bed, they had sex. Out of loyalty? No, out of obligation.

Still, nothing has been said. They're sitting in silence, nothing new, but something about this time feels so much worse than the others. "You don't think you love me anymore?" Yuutarou asks slowly.

"Don't pretend like you don't think the same," Akira says, there's an edge to his voice.

Yuutarou cannot pretend like he hadn't thought a dozen times in a single night why they still use those _titles_ , "Boyfriends," When _other_ people are _so_ much more deserving of those titles, he could even vouch for Akira. Yuutarou sometimes finds late night thoughts, keeping him up well into the night, of the pretty faced barista at the coffee house down the road. Hajime was his name.

It's like Akira could hear him, like he knew exactly what points to press on. "Don't pretend like you don't get off to ' _Iwaizumi-san'_ every other night, Yuutarou." There's pain in Akira's voice - _Betrayal_ , more accurately titled.

A nerve is struck, Yuutarou's mouth is dry. More tears threaten to spill. He has nothing to be ashamed of, or does he? "What like you don't do the same?"

"I _don't_." The edge is sharper, Akira's voice cuts like a knife. " _I_ \--" He stops.

" _You_ \--" Yuutarou mocks Akira. Despite this, Yuutarou was crying now. The quivering of his lip should be taken as a sign of weakness, something for Akira to roll his eyes at and ignore, but, if anything, he only paid closer attention. "You _what?_ You _love_ me and _never_ would even _think_ of doing that to me? Unless I misheard, you _just_ said the opposite." His voice had a shake to it, a wet sob caught in his throat. The momentary pausing between sentences is what Yuutarou found to be the most unbearable. "I've never _cheated_ , Akira, but I won't lie when I say I've found someone that seems to like me a _bit_ more than you."

"You think he likes you? God, Yuutarou, you're so _oblivious_!" It stings when Yuutarou hears that, and it stings Akira to say. "He's dating the one guy that hangs around the coffee house. The pretty boy. The one that calls him, 'Iwa-Chan.'" His voice goes uncomfortably soft. Something appears in Yuutarou's eyes and disappears just as quickly.

The silences are back and Yuutarou ends them fast. "So is this it, then?" He asks, sniffing. It wasn't hard to speak before, when it was just sudden snaps and a wet anger that he didn't have time to think about. Now, things were slowed down, the words spoken now had more meaning. The scales were tipping.

"I suppose." Akira stares just past Yuutarou, focused on the dust floating in the sunlight. The shadow it casts around Yuutarou, it hid his features. People used to say Yuutarou wasn't a pretty boy - they'd call him _ugly_. God, Akira never saw that. Even before he loved him, even before looking at him sent sudden jolts to his heart. Yuutarou had a sharp jawline, eyes that searched and found you - and when they found you, they saw you. Truly saw you. Yuutarou was the type to make you feel wanted. That was what Akira fell in love with.

Another long silence. This is when Akira should stand up, Yuutarou figures. In the younger years of their relationship, when they were still hopeless for each other, but still terrified it could end at any moment, it had always been Akira to leave - To storm out of the apartment in tears, staying with friends. Yuutarou waited for Akira to leave, to pack up his things and disappear. Maybe they'll argue about who gets the impossibly small apartment, Yuutarou can't think of who, though, would _want_ the impossibly small apartment; There were so many memories in this place, hot nights and warm mornings. A minute passes, Akira is still sat across from him. "Are you going to leave?"

Akira, who'd been avoiding looking in Yuutarou eyes this entire time, lifted his gaze finally. The dark brown is heavy and Yuutarou feels a sudden compassion rise up inside of him. He worries for Akira. "God, I don't think I can," He says.

"Why?" Yuutarou asks and feels like he's mocking Akira.

He hesitates. That reminds Yuutarou of their first kiss, Akira tasted like hesitation and anxiety. "Because, I know if I do, it'll really be over."

"Should _I_ then?" When Yuutarou speaks, the words come out thick and slow.

Akira persists. "I don't think I can see that happen either."

They're sat there for another moment, staring at each other, in their impossibly small apartment. "So you think you don't love me anymore," He begins. "But, you can't see me go, either." Akira nods, slowly. Yuutarou looks to the golden sunlight that bathes Akira's skin again. "Should we... Try to work on this, then?"

Akira's eyes meet Yuutarou's. There, Akira sat, bathed in gold, but he doesn't answer Yuutarou.

"Should I stay, 'Kira?"

Akira's eyes answer him. "We should... Try to work on this."

"We should."

The sunlight bathes them in gold as they talk.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I'm suppose to be asleep/Working on Tsukishima Is Tsuffering/Working on my new fic 
> 
> I'm so tired. It's almost 1am. God help me. I've been crying over Levi Ackerman, Kunimi Akira, and Kindaichi Yuutarou for the past two hours. 
> 
> Y'all get to decide if they broke up or not. Please leave your hypotheses in the comments!! Much appreciated!


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